


On the head of a pin

by Hectatess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, SPN Fluff Appreciaton Day 2017, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 00:49:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12158187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: The extra perk of his job allows Dean to keep up his hobby. But after a busy night, he finds he isn’t alone...Can he help this strange guy with his game?





	1. Chapter 1

First time Dean saw him, he was part of a large group that had a party. The group had only caught his attention, because of the weird names. The list started out ok. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael. But then the names got weirder. Balthazar, Uriël, Zachariah, Castiël, Inias, Josiah, Samandriël. He guessed it must be a family outing, because the group was very diverse. Raphael and Uriël were both dark skinned, however the first was lanky and had a short cropped coupe, where the latter was big and burly with a bald, shiny head. Then there was Zachariah. An older man with grey hair and protuberant, cold, blue eyes. Gabriel was like a labrador puppy on speed. He was bouncy and quirky and not once in the entire evening did Dean see him without a sucker or a piece of candy in his mouth. Dean sort of knew Michael and Balthazar. They were regulars and not too shabby at the game. So when Michael came up to the bar and held his hand up to get Dean’s attention, Dean smiled at him. “Hey there, Mike. Your regular lane?” The guy gave Dean a Look that said ‘not tonight, please.’ before telling him in an icy tone: “It’s Michael and, yes, but the one next to it too. Novak party.” Raising his eyebrows, Dean shrugged it off. Family... made some people act like dicks, some people cry. “Sure thing. Will you enter the names, or shall I?” A 5’7” guy with mischeivous, golden eyes and shoulder long, Samesque hair, nearly tripped over himself. “I’ll do it!!” Michael shot him a withering glance. “If you please. I’ll have them come to you. Some want an abbreviation put up, some are difficult to spell.” Annoyed that Michael would think he couldn't read or spell, Dean just nodded and began the list with ‘Michael’. “Thank you.” Michael said and walked off.

Dean filled the last glass of cola in his order and sighed. It had been a long evening. The group with Michael and Balthazar had been in his serving area and it was a rowdy group, but not a nuissance. The loudest, by far, was Gabriel, or Gabe as he wanted to be called on the list. He whooped and cussed, gave high fives and clapped people on the shoulder. “Dean-o! You're a gem, buddyboy! Hey guys! More drinks!” His polar opposite was Castiël. He had come up and calmly said, then spelled his name in a voice that sounded like silk over gravel, looking up at Dean with amazingly blue eyes. He spoke low and in level tones. Right now, it was his turn. He had shucked off the tan trenchcoat and his suit jacket, and Dean licked his lips at the sight of muscles playing under the white dress shirt that covered the lanky frame. Castiël picked up a ten ball, not bothered by its pink hue, and stepped up to the lane. From the moment he let go, Dean held his breath. Castiël had been rolling gutter balls most of the night, and ended bottom of the list in every game, but Dean had noticed some improvement as the night went on. Right now the ball teetered on the edge of the gutter, and Dean found himself willing it to stay on the lane. It tipped and ended in the gutter. “Awe, Cassie! We should get you the bumpers!” Gabriel called as Castiël stoïcly shrugged, ran a hand through his messy dark hair and walked back to the booth. “Don't bother, Gabriel. This game is not quite my sport, but I would rather loose everytime, than gain a few places by an unfair advantage. I am enjoying myself though.” Dean smiled to himself. That was an admirable attitude. Michael was up next, and of course he threw a strike. “Whoa... seventh one tonight, big bro! You're on a roll!” Gabriel called. Samandriël, who’d shortened his name to Sam much to Dean’s amusement, came up to Dean and took a drink from the table. “It would be nice for the others to consider rolling a bad one every now and then, just to allow Castiël to catch up.” he said softly to Dean. Dean gave him a half smile. “I don't think he would appreciate it, to be honest. He knows his opponents, and I think he would notice a sudden decline in their game.” Samandriël smiled warmly back. “You're right. He would, and he wouldn't like it.” Dean went back to the bar, but he kept an eye on the group after that. The improvement in Castiël’s game kept going, but he still lost every game that night.

Dean wiped the bar and collected the empty glasses and peanut bowls. When he came to the booth that had held the Novak party, he saw a suit jacket draped over the back of it. He picked it up, dusted it off a bit and smiled. “Well, Castiël, I think I will have to ring Mike up that you were too down to pick up your suit jacket.” He chuckled when he realised that the guy had put on his trenchcoat, but totally forgot his suit jacket. He hung the jacket behind the bar and finished his chores. “Sammy!” He called to his brother. “I'm gonna roll a few. Wanna join me?” Sam stuck his head around the doorframe. “Naah, I'm going up. I have a test Monday.” Dean shrugged. “Fine, egghead. See you later.” He picked up his own ball from behind the bar and activated his favorite lane. The sound of the pins clattering down had him smile widely. That was the best perk of this job. He could practise his game for free after hours. After a few rolls, his score ran into triple digits and Dean felt all his muscles relax and the fatigue fade out. Another strike and Dean smirked to himself. “I bet that Mike would be surprised to see me roll like this.” As he stepped up for the next roll, his brain supplied a mischeivous idea and he chuckled. “Or I could teach Castiël to roll, and have him bust Mike’s ass next family meeting...” Dean watched as the ball wiped down nine pins. “If anyone could teach me, it would be you.” Dean nearly tripped in surprise. “Crap! Dude! You startled me.” Castiël came up to him. “My apologies. When I got home, I noticed I had forgotten my jacket. Have you found it?” Dean swallowed. Castiël had stepped up a little too close for comfort. “Yeah. Yeah I have, but dude... you mind stepping back a bit? Personal space.” His gaze flicked to the chapped, pink lips and he moistened his own with his tongue. Castiël stepped back. “My apologies, again. Do continue your game. I would like to watch.” Feeling a bit awkward, Dean picked up his ball and rolled again. “Is it customary to curtesy when rolling?” Dean wiped his hand over his mouth. “It’s a preference, but a lot of bowlers use this move. It stabilises the momentum of your body, so your roll is more even.” Castiël solemnly nodded, and Dean could almost hear him file that fact in his mind. “C’mere, Cas. Lemme see you roll. See if we can get your score to go up.” Castiël blinked and was that a blush, rising on his cheeks? “Cas?” he rumbled, twining his slender fingers together. Dean bit his lip. “Yeah. Less of a mouthfull. Hope you don't mind..” Castiël looked up from under his lashes. “I don't mind. I like it. Less feminine or degrading than Cassie. I know Gabriel and Balthazar don't mean it like that, but that is how it comes through.” Dean smiled at him. “Nothing feminine about you, buddy, except the lashes.” Castiël’s eyes crinkled at the sides and his mouth curled a bit. “Thank you, Dean. Are you sure you want to spend the time teaching me? It is rather late.” Dean winked at him. “I'm cool. Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't. Now get your ass over here, so we can start.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dean glanced at his watch. Only half an hour until closing. Sam caught it and bumped his shoulder against him. “Your student coming today?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes. Dean hip checked him out of the way. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes. Cas has texted me an hour ago.” After two weeks of after hour lessons that were just between him and Cas, Sam had come looking for him one night, and had walked in on him standing behind Cas, trying to improve his approach. He hadn't stopped teasing Dean since. The fact that Dean couldn't stop wanting to touch the guy, made him a bit selfconscious. The warmth and hidden power of that lean body, made him all tingly. Fully aware that him being bi didn't mean Cas was in any way attracted to him, Dean surpressed all feelings and just indulged in those moments when he could teach by touch. “Dean... you will be careful, won’t you?” Sam asked, his hazel eyes sincere. Puzzled, Dean turned. “What? Why would you say that?” Sam tilted his head and studied him with that thinking pout. “You don't know... aw. That's adorable...” Annoyed that his little brother didn't clarify, Dean picked up his order and walked off, aware of the prickling feeling in his neck that meant Sam was still staring at him.

Over the next 15 minutes, he caught Sam staring several times. He frowned at him to go and be an egghead, but Sam just grinned and continued his staring. When the door opened, Dean turned to look. His heart skipped a beat when he saw it was Cas, his eyes crinkling in the smile his mouth didn't show. Sam saw Cas too and he threw Dean an exagerated wink before running to their private door, calling: “I'm studying, De! Don't be late!” Dean was torn between wanting to strangle Sammy and welcoming Cas. Since the first meant he would have to go to jail, he opted for the latter. “Hey Cas.” Cas sat down on the barstool he had made his over time. “Hello, Dean.” He glanced at the door to Dean and Sam’s apartement. “Your brother is late with starting his homework. Is everything allright?” Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just fine. Sammy is just being an annoying little bitch.” He raised his voice a little, knowing it would carry to Sam, who most likely would be standing behind that door, listening. The muffled “Just behave, jerk!” that came back, proved him right. “Can I get you anything? Just ten more minutes.” Cas eye smiled. “I could use a coffee.”

Tension building in his muscles, Dean watched the ball roll down the lane. “C’mon, c’mon...” he mumbled, his eyes glued on the path it was taking. With a loud clatter, all ten pins hit the floor. Dean whooped and hugged Cas. “WOOHOO! Turkey!” He felt Cas stiffen and suddenly they were staring at eachother, personal space between them non-existent. ‘ _God, his eyes are really fucking beautiful._ ’ was all that ran through Dean’s mind. ‘ _So amazingly blue._ ’ Those blue eyes flicked down and were hidden by those dark lashes. “Dean...” Dean hummed, distracted by the pink hue of Cas’ lips. “What is a turkey, apart from poultry?” Suddenly aware of the fact that he was still holding on to Cas, Dean quickly let go and cleared his throat. “Ehm. Ehem. That's when you... when you get three strikes in a row. Gets you a nice 30 points. Six strikes is a Wild Turkey and nine a Golden Turkey.” Biting down on his lip, Cas nodded, and Dean could see him file that away. “But there are ten frames in a game.” Tearing his eyes from those white teeth on that pink lip, Dean swallowed. “Yeah... but if you strike on the last frame, you get another roll, and if you strike that too, another. Twelve strikes is a perfect game. 300 points.” Cas’ eyes were shining. “I would like to achieve that one day.” Dean smiled. “You keep this up, you just might.” That made Cas smile a true smile and his whole face lit up.

Dean could almost hear the sharp ‘ping’ with which his restraint snapped and with a desperate little noise, he pressed his lips to Cas’. Cas stiffened, but when Dean started to pull back, Cas followed. His hands grabbed Dean by the head and pulled him back towards his lips. Dean sighed and leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut. Cas moaned and the world stopped spinning. After a bit Cas pulled free. “Dean....” Dean hummed and ran a thumb over his tingling bottom lip. “Dean... how long?” He didn't want this feeling to end, but he opened his eyes. “Since the party? You looked so determined, so unimpressed with the other’s scores. As long as you had fun. And your eyes, god Cas, your eyes. They pierced my heart and soul.” Cas smiled again. “And you? When did you...?” Cas pressed a feather light kiss on his lips. “When I watched you roll, and you said that you would teach me to help me beat Michael’s ass.” Dean blinked. “I didn't even know you were there...” Cas smiled at him. “I know. That's why I fell for you. You were not trying to impress me, but honestly offering. That, plus how good your ass looks when you roll.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean smirked at the energetic, 5’7” guy that bounced up to the bar. “Hey! Remember me?” he asked around the stick of a lollipop. “Yeah. Hi Gabe. You're back?” Gabriel grinned. “Yeah, and I brought the clan again!” He gestured over his shoulder, where Dean saw Michael, Balthazar and the rest of the family. Dean started punching in the list from memory, and Cas’ accurate discription of his brothers, uncle and nephews. He even remembered to add the ‘tiël’ to Cas’ name. Popping his lollipop out, Gabe eyed him suspiciously. “We were here about six months ago. What are you, an elephant?” Dean gave him his most winning smile. “Nope. You lot were memorable enough for me. I’ve given you the same lanes.” Gabe leaned over to him. “Could you put up the bumpers for poor old Cassie? I felt so bad for him.” Dean licked his lips and bit down on the lower. “Only if he comes to ask himself.” Gabe’s face fell. “Damn. He’ll never do that.” Dean shrugged. “His choice, Gabe. If you ask me, he had lots of fun last time. Isn't that what matters?” Over Gabe's head, Dean caught the wink Cas sent him and he smirked. “One thing, Gabe...” The guy looked up at him. “I'm not serving you Red Bull and red vodka.” Gabe narrowed his eyes and popped the lollipop back in.

The first frame on the Novak party looked pretty much the same as last time, until Cas’ turn came. With a loud clatter, all ten pins hit the floor. Gabe whooped. “Way to go baby bro! Beginners luck!” Cas’ mouth curled at the corners and Dean, who stood nearby, smirked. After five frames, even Gabe was quiet. Dean was grinning widely as he served up the ordered drinks. Cas was up. If he hit another strike, he would have a Wild Turkey. Dean anxiously watched as Cas stepped up the approach. His eyes followed the backswing, saw the 10 o’clock release and the perfect hook that followed. He wanted to start cheering, but kept it inside. The ball rolled right towards the pocket, and the Wild Turkey was a fact. Gabriel cast a suspicious glance at Cas. “Have you been practising, Cassie?” With a tiny smile playing around his mouth and a mischeivous twinkle in his eyes, Cas walked back to the booth. “Mmmmmaybe.” He winked at Dean, who ducked back to the bar, before anyone could see the blush on his cheeks. He quickly tapped out a message to Sam. ‘ **Sammy. He’s got a wild... this could be it. I feel a perfect game coming on.** ’ Less than two minutes later, Sam stuck his shaggy head around the corner. “Seriously? Is he really doing that well?” Sam and Cas had hit it off like brothers, and Dean was happy about it. “Yeah... hear that? Strike... seven I think...” They made their way to the lanes where Michael tried, and failed, to get another strike. “Seriously, Cassie. You can’t blame all this on luck, cousin.” Balthazar was saying in his British accent. “I am not blaming it on luck, Balthazar. I blame practise, and a great teacher.” Glad of the semi darkness on the lanes, Dean bit his lip. “De... are you blushing?” Sam teasingly whispered. “Shut up, bitch.” Sam smirked. “Make me, jerk.”

Dean and Sam weren't the only ones coming to watch the guy with the blue eyes play. Almost every patron that was there had flocked around the Novak booth. Exited whispers buzzed around. Even Bobby Singer, the owner of the alley and the apartment upstairs, where Dean and Sam lived, had left the bar and stood next to Dean and Sam. “Ya know... that kid has a very familiar way of rolling.” he said in an offhand matter to Dean. Dean smiled and just nodded. “Right. So this is your mysterious friend... you did good, boy. If he gets a perfect game, drinks are one me.” Sam clapped the old man on his shoulder. “Believe me, uncle Bobby, Cas will roll a perfect game. He is smoking!” Dean ducked his head, hiding his happy grin. “A Golden Turkey...” it buzzed around the alley, tension mounting. Dean bit his fingernails. He could do it. Cas had trained so hard. He could make it. Frame ten... Cas threw another strike.... Dean clenched his fists. Another... cool as a cucumber, for those who hadn't watched Cas as close as Dean had, Cas picked up the pink ball again. But Dean saw the tension in his shoulders, the white teeth, biting down on his pink, chapped lips briefly. ‘ _C’mon Cas. You can do it, angel. You have this perfect game in your fingers. I know it._ ’ he silently rooted for his boyfriend.

Cas started the backswing and Dean quietly moved closer. Cas released, and even though Dean could see he had released perfectly and the executed hook would carry the ball into the pocket without a hitch, he still tensed up. The ball hit its mark and even before the sound of the falling pins had died out, the whole crowd was cheering. Dean picked Cas up and swirled him around. “You did it, angel! You did it!” He hugged Cas tight and kissed him full on the mouth. Catcalls ensued and Gordon Walker called out: “Get a room, Winchester!” Michael swiftly swung his head around. “Winchester? Dean Winchester?” Dean smirked. “Yup.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “The three times State youth bowling champion Dean Winchester?” Still holding onto Cas, Dean turned to Gabe. “Oh, you heard of me?” Gabe didn't answer him but whooped and pulled Cas into a hug, tugging Dean along and making Cas protest weakly about being in a hug sandwich. “Cassie, you sly fox! Not only do you find yourself the best teacher, he is absolutely GORGEOUS, and you rope him in, hook, line, sinker and rod!” Cas tilted his head at Dean. “You were State champion?” Dean shrugged. “Hope you don't mind... it was a while back.” Cas ignored all questions and grabbed Dean’s head to kiss him deeply. “I'm glad we decided to go bowling six months back, Michael.” Gabe dryly stated. “We never would have seen Cassie so happy otherwise.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam sat on a stool, watching the tiny tv over the bar. “C’mon De! Commercial break is almost over!” he called at his brother. Dean grumbled a “Yeah, yeah.. coming.” but he walked over, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. The tv showed another bowling alley, and several professionally dressed bowling teams. Dean only had eyes for the deep blue shirts, and one guy in particular. The short sleeves didn't quite cover the tips of the black feathers that were tattooed on there. “I still can’t believe Cas went and got a tattoo.” Sam said, shaking his head. Dean blushed deeply. “He said I was the main reason he did. Wings to symbolise freedom. He said I showed him to spread his wings and soar.” Sam nodded. “I get that, but Hell... he covered most of his shoulders and upper arms. Quite the ink!” Dean nodded, blushing as he remembered the first time he saw them. “It is... now shush. They're up.” The local tv commentator sounded exited. “First time in years that a local team got this far... the Sioux Falls Angels rose through the ranks pretty swiftly. Almost like they were real angels and flew to the top. Their captain is named after an angel, maybe that brings good luck, I don't know... oh, he’s up. Michael Novak. Not their best player, but the team said that Michael was the best leader, so... oohhh! Spare... nice rolling there.” Dean smiled at the tv. “Mike should have let me coach him too... he tends to over turn his wrist and just passes the 10 o’clock...” Sam shushed him and pointed to the screen. “Ah... here we have Castiël Novak. Another angel name from that family. Even though he is much younger, he outplays his captain every game. Rumour has it, he has an ex-champion for a coach, but he never talks about it, nor do the other... oooh!!! Yessss! STRIKE!!” Dean fistpumped the air and Sam whooped. “Way to go Cas!”

That night, when a tired but happy Cas wandered into the alley with his team, they were welcomed with cheers and drinks on the house. After a while, Dean saw Cas slip away to the lanes and he followed him. Cas was standing at the lane where they had first met, staring at the oily lane. “Hey Cas...” Dean said softly. Cas turned around, a sweet smile on his lips. “Hello, Dean.” His gravely voice still bypassed the ears and shot straight to the belly. “You did it, Cas. Your team did it. Sioux Falls Angels, state champion...” Cas dipped his head. “Thanks to you. You coached most of us. Except Michael. Stubborn idiot.” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist and pulled him in. “His loss. Your gain... You rolled a perfect game... again.” Cas hummed. “I know. Dean...” Dean looked up into those cerulean eyes. “... you know I will lose some too.” Dean smiled and kissed him softly on those pink lips. “I know. But I also know something you will never lose.” he whispered into his ear. Cas pulled back, to look him in the eye. “What?” Dean swallowed hard, his fingers digging into his pocket. He took out what he had been hiding there all day, and sank to one knee. Trembling, he opened the tiny box. The ring was silver with a square, deep blue saphire embedded in the middle. “Me. Will you marry me, Castiël?”


End file.
